


specs is a good person

by orphan_account



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's snowing and Specs isn't back yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	specs is a good person

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parkers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkers/gifts).



> Uuuuhhh.....so I really don't have an excuse for this, but one of my drama friends got really into Newsies. I watched the obc (since I couldn't find the one with Corey Cott and company) after her insistence that I should be enlightened - and I watched the show because I owe my fellow theater geeks a favor
> 
> I fell in love with the absolute cuties that were cast, and promptly began fic writing and tumblr following. This is shorter than I'd usually write a oneshot, but - hey - literal Hell on Earth is over (cough cough finals week cough cough), and I'm too tired to try for anything else, hence why the reading is much lighter than I'd describe for my usual pieces.
> 
> My first work for Newsies, so apologies if any characterizations are off etc etc. I don't own these characters and their personalities and such - and this is not for commercial purposes, merely for extracurricular and non-profit causes

The wind blows against the windowpanes, glass shuddering against the thicket of snow, as the boys file into the room, talking excitedly with each other. Jack is flanked by both Davey and Crutchie, punching both of them lightly on the shoulders before dashing off to unlace his boots.

“How much did we make today?” Race asks, “I got a quarter‘cause someone said he ‘felt like givin’ it to a poor boy like me” he croons, “ ‘M rich!” he yells, hand to his forehead in a faux faint.

“Somebody call the police!” Les shouts, grinning wide.

Crutchie raises his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise, miming the action of picking up a phone and pressing it to his ear. “Yes’m. How may I help ‘ya?” he asks in a falsetto, fluttering his lashes.

“We got man who stole’n money!” Finch cries in mock agony, “And what’s worse - he thinks he’s the richest man in the world!”

Race flushes, but doesn’t back down, shoving the dollar bill into his pocket, and shucking off his coat to drop it in a damp heap on his mattress. He sits down heavily, the blankets crinkling under the weight of his body as he leans down to untie his shoes.

“If you’re sendin’ the police on me, I ain’t gonna give the bill to our savin’s,” Race says moodily, “So if any of ‘ya lot get sick, I ain’t gonna be the one to cover for your sorry behinds,” he crosses his arms, “ ‘Sides, I’m just gonna give the buck to Jack anyhow. ‘Cause he’s the one who saves all the extra money, ain’t that right boys?”

A rustle of agreement passes through the group.

“Why not, it ain’t hurtin’ nobody to give it t’Jack right now,” Race says, patting his pockets. He makes his way over to Jack, passing the money over - almost secretly - wiggling his eyebrows when Jack snatches it from Race’s hand with an irritated sigh.

“I know that you gon’a be the death of me,” Jack declares, eyes sparkling under the light.

“You know I ain’t,” Race whispers, bumping shoulders playfully with Jack. There’s a sudden hush when a few mouths are moving silently, and eyes scan over the heads.

“Uh,” Jack says, “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” he asks.

“We don’ know where Specs ‘as gone to,” Romeo says. He’s on his toes and straining his neck to see above everybody who’s blocking his sightline. He elbows Finch in the side to get to Jack, already rolling down his sleeves and buttoning up his jacket. “We count’d heads twice, but we ain’t got no sight o’him anywhere.”

Jack curses under his breath before raising his voice. “Does anybody go out with him to sell?” he asks. The answer is a scuffle of nervous feet and a resounding “no”, and the return of strained chatter.

Crutchie stamps his good foot to catch attention. “Well, then, did’t nobody go to sell with him this mornin’ or somethin’?” The answer is a “no” again. Jack sighs, turning to lace up his boots, grabbing his coat, and finger combing his bangs away from his eyes so he can shove his cap down on his head.

“Hey!” he says, demanding attention. “You boys stay here - I don’t want anyone of you to get out there and get lost a’right?” he turns to Crutchie, patting his shoulder, “Crutchie here’s gonna be in charge while I’m gone, so y’all better listen’ to everything he says ‘cause now that word is as good as law.”

Crutchie looks a bit put on the spot, but smiles nervously, fiddling idly with his shirt hem.

“Race, Davey,” Jack says, “You’re with me,” he makes his way across the room, “Romeo too.” The boy looks up, surprised, until the words sink in and Romeo jumps up with a start - banging his head on the bunk above him. His friends wince in sympathy, but he simply shrugs his jacket on, rubbing at the reddening spot on his forehead. Jack turns around and pulls open the door, Davey already brushing past him and rushing down the stairs.

“Wait, wait, I’m coming!” Romeo says hurriedly, dashing up to Jack’s side with an excited grin.

“Wouldn’t leave without ‘ya,” Race says, linking his arms with the other boy and skipping him into the hallway.

\--

“Do you think Spec’s at Medda’s?” Davey asks suddenly, pulling his coat tighter around himself. Jack shrugs.

“I dunno,” he says finally. “Probably?”

“He’s not stupid enough to stay out in the cold,” Romeo cuts in, “Not somebody like Specs in the middle of Brooklyn when it’s snowin’ like there’s no tomorrow. He knows the places to keep warm, ‘cause he’s the smart one out of all’a us, ain’t he, Jack.” Romeo glances at David, " 'Sides Dave, of 'course."

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, nodding, “But I think stoppin’ by Medda’s place won’t hurt us any. Just to make sure.”

“Kay,” Race says, “If we don’t find him tonight, we go back and ask around?”

“No,” Davey says, determined, “We’re gonna find him tonight and it’s gonna be the end of this business.”

“Davey’s right,” Jack concedes, “But if we don’t get going soon, we ain’t gonna have much time left to look.”

“Should we split up?” Race asks, “We can cover more distance that way.”

“Yeah, but no matter what, we’re back at the sandwich shop in fifteen minutes, so we don’t lose track of each other,” David says. Jack pats him on the shoulder.

“Good man,” he says, “Let’s go.”

They start off in different directions, until Jack pulls David closer to him, linking their elbows. David furrows his brows.

"Jack?" he asks, confused. "I know that this is great and all, but I do have to go home after this search is over."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack responds impatiently, "I don't want you to get lost here."

David looks at Jack, casting his eyes to the pavement, and back to his face. "Jack," he says seriously, "Uh, you do realize that I  _live_ in this city right?"

Jack flushes and looks guilty, as if he was caught with his hand the cookie jar - though there never was a cookie jar in his life to begin with.

"Whatever," Jack says quickly, trying to backpedal at an amazing pace, "Let's just...um, go this way!" he shouts, dragging David along with him into the snowy evening.

\--

Specs watches as a pie is pulled out of the oven, leg jittering nervously as he glances at the clock above the baker’s head. It’s late. Really late. Too late for Specs to be out, since he’s usually the one who makes sure that everybody gets back on time. And alive. Preferably alive. He taps his fingers against his thigh anxiously.

Specs knew it wasn’t like him to stay out so late - just for food, of all things - but everybody’s been working so hard lately, with all the paper selling because of the factory burning down on the other side of town, and the snow picking up. The only reason that was a problem was because most of the boys didn’t own clothes that were warm enough for this kind of weather, much less something expensive as those cotton gloves that seemed to be all the rage.

“Hey,” the baker calls, “You paying or what?”

“Oh,” Specs starts, his smile turning sheepish, “Sorry, yeah, just a moment please,” he says, fishing in his pocket for the dime that a passing lawyer had given to him. He hands over the money and takes the pie, boxed nicely, and still warm, sparing the baker a wave before he bundles himself up tighter in his jacket and braves the snowstorm outside.

Since he hadn’t been back at the office yet, Specs still has a stack of newspapers tucked under his arm, and he manages to sell them all before he even gets to the bars.

“Well,” he mutters to himself, “Business is good...I guess.”

He runs a hand through his hair before adjusting his cap and fixing his glasses, humming mindlessly to himself.

\--

Race and Davey burst into sandwich shop breathlessly, shaking their heads simultaneously when Jack looks at them.

“We searched everywhere!” Race says, “We couldn’t find him at all.”

“It’s like he disappeared,” Romeo adds.

Jack glances at the clock and sighs. “Guess we better get goin’ if we wanna be back before curfew,” he says, pushing himself up wearily from where he stands, leaning against the wall.

“Who knows,” Race says, “Maybe Specs is already back or somethin’.”

“Maybe,” Jack echoes quietly, buttoning up his jacket.

"Should we leave?" David asks, glancing at the clock. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jack says, slipping on his hat and holding the door open for his friends.

\--

“He ain’t out there,” Jack says, shrugging, when the four of them return to the lodgings house.

“Guess we’ll just hav’ta wait him out,” Race says dejectedly. Romeo pats his shoulder when he passes by the taller boy.

“He’s bound to come back at some point, ya know,” he whispers quietly, “He’s gonna be fine.”

Race nods and shrugs his shoulders half-heartedly, “Thanks,” he whispers back, fingers curling into the sleeve of Romeo’s jacket. The grin that breaks the younger boy’s face is unrestrained, and Race feels something happy and warm stir in his chest. Race sends Romeo off to his bunk with a hair ruffle that leaves him disoriented and laughing, face flushed.

David catches Jack's arm silently,  the boys watch as a silent conversation unfolds between the two of them as David smiles wanly when Jack grasps his hands - before David is tugging his jacket back on and leaving for his house.

Finch snickers. 

Jack sits down with a huff.

“Find ‘im?” Henry asks. Jack shakes his head.

“No suck luck,” he says.

Crutchie begins to say something, but the door opens when his mouth does, with Specs on the other side of it. There’s a moment of silence until Les launches himself at Specs with a cheer, clinging to the taller boy as he babbles something incoherently.

Specs pats his back meekly before peeling Les away with his free hand.

“Uhm,” Specs says timidly, “Did I miss somethin’?”

“Yeah, you did!” Les shouts excitedly, “Jack held a search party to find you.”

Specs tilts his head to the side and looks to Jack for confirmation. The latter shrugs his agreement. “We couldn’t find ya, so we just decided to come back here,” Jack says, and Specs ducks his head, cheeks flushing.

“Oh,” he says, apologetic. “I just went out to get some pie and somethin’ warm to drink.”

“Really?” Race asks, looking up from where he’s fiddling with his jacket sleeves.

“Yeah. Papers sold like no other t’day, so I got some spare cash that I could use,” Specs explains, “And ya all look real cold in this weather...so...I thought somethin’ warm would be nice.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “If that’s fine w’you Jack. We can eat now?”

Jack grins brightly, clipping Specs on the shoulder playfully, “Why wouldn’t that be okay? Do ya know how much we love food?”

“I want the first piece!” Les yells, clambering over Crutchie’s lap.

Jack furrows his eyebrows - something he must have adopted from David's little group of ticks. "Hey," he says, "Shouldn't you be back home with ya brother?"

\--

And the rest is history

**Author's Note:**

> Hope I didn't kill your eyes.
> 
> BYE
> 
> (Also - can we talk about how downright adorable Ryan Steele is?? Because, damn, his ballet technique and his fucking smile I am so done with him. And Andy. And how about I just gush over how MUCH THE WHOLE CAST IS A BUNCH OF PUPPIES LIKE IS IT ON THE CONTRACT THAT THE CASTED PEOPLE HAVE TO BE A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF CUTE OR SOMETHING


End file.
